Any mammal who has even base knowledge of the world around them knows Zootopia is the center of it. Even though this is not the truth, many feel it should be. Surrounding the fair city and it's districts, is Bunnyburrow. Rolling green hills, scattered forests, and lots and lots of farms.

But Bunnyburrow has already been talked about. At the moment, a certain red fox was declaring to a certain grey bunny about being the first of his kind to be warmly received at Salamandastron. What should it matter? The mountain fortress is fictional. A mere legend bunnies and hares, hares especially, tell their kits at bedtime.

But any mammal with base knowledge of the world around them knows that the Bunnyburrow farm lands end eventually. They know if they travel further, green, lush, grass covered hills will eventually become a bit more rocky. The soil will become a bit coarser. The vegetation will not be the fresh green of the country side, but hardened green of the desert.

This is only for a stretch. The soil will carry on being thin until, almost suddenly, the rockiness and rough ground turns into fine sand. Air will carry a breeze tinged with salt. The only thing that will not change are the hills. Though this far out, they prefer the term dunes.

These not quite mountains of sand spread further than the desert before it. And they make for a traitorous walk. But if one is ambitious enough, brave enough, and possibly stubborn enough, one will cross the dunes to find the beach waiting for the weary traveler. And it's beauty will hold one's attention. If one stays looking to the left.

But it will be forgotten quickly once one looks to the right.

It's size is written about in many stories; how imposing it's stature becomes up close. How, even from several miles away, when the sun is at it's zenith, it's shadow still washes over those who gaze upon it. For one who has read the legends, that shadow is like a welcome blanket against the chill of the night. Because Salamandastron standing before such creatures means not all the stories were fiction.

And the dread of the mountain being deserted after a couple centuries of silence does not last long. Just because the world became more civilized did not mean the mountain was empty. Far from it. It was, in fact, as busy as it had been since it's last Badger Lord and his family had ruled.

Though the winds swept over the bones of the mountain's last ruler, the hares living there seemed to own the motto 'Business as usual'. Ever coordinated and ready, the grounds of Salamandastron were a buzz with it's occupants on parade, practicing archery, healing, and sword play.

The ancient forge and quarters of the badger rulers rests at the crest of the mighty fortress, undisturbed and charged as though they were waiting. Right below it, the mountain's current caretaker kept things running as smoothly he could. His bright blue eyes gazed sharply out the window of his apartments, as some of the older cadets argued through mock battle plans at the table behind him.

But we shall return to him.

He has allowed himself to mentally leave the room in his Lieutenant's paws. His still razor sharp hearing is not focused on the room he stands in. It's actually focused on the room below. The windows are allowing the familiar voice of one of his sons to carry. And the yarn he's weaving is quite familiar and warm. As are the gasps and cries of the youngest cadets as they listened raptly to the teenage buck retell the glory days of their mountain.

Daniel McLeaps sat on a chair in front of the young hares, occasionally leaping up to demonstrate the action his story contained. In turn, the youngsters (about twelve in total) would watch with baited breath and wide eyes. So fast did their ears move up and down a shallow breeze was formed from them. And this did nothing to improve the mood of the smallest.

He sat on a cushion, half turned to the door, one leg outstretched with the other folded under him. A long length of linen had been thrice split and was held between the toes of his outstretched hind paw. With care and concentration, the small hare was working on braiding the strands together as tightly as he could. Paws working hard to mimic what he had seen his uncle do many times before this, the young hare found it difficult to keep out his brothers voice.

Even if he had sat in rapt attention to the story being told, he would have stood out. The McLeaps eyes were prominent enough on their own. But it was his markings that set him apart. And the reason he did not join his peers.

Fur so pale it was not quite grey, not quite white, set the backdrop for the rich black stripes that etched up his face. The stripes continued across his shoulders and down his back, both hidden under the dark brown tunic of his class level. His ears were tipped with black and accompanied by a single stripe on each. As striking as his elders saw him, his peers just saw a target.

Jack McLeaps has spent most of his time fighting off the more aggressive bullying, at first wanting to just walk away as his mother had asked of him. But another charming McLeaps trait was temper. And that was what the youngest and smallest had always struggled to control.

Had it been his choice, he would be outside on the parade grounds with his task. There, at least, a more skilled officer or cadet would correct any mistakes in his braid. But their instructor had sent him here. For a 'history lesson'.

More like story time, he thought.

Jack frowned at his brother and rolled his eyes. First year cadets start their training in their eighth year, affectionately earning the title of Leverets. Mere children, they followed the story in such a manner that fitted them. Daniel had finished and was answering questions from the Leverets who had been listening.

"How did the Long Patrol know to bring Russano to the Mountain?" Cried a sandy brown buck.

"They didn't. Lord Russano heard the mountain's call and knew he had to answer it."

"But why haven't we a lord now?"

"There hasn't been a need."

"Is it always a badger?"

"Always."

Jack finished up his braid and allowed his hind paw to relax it's hold. Bringing it close for inspection, he didn't register his brother's voice as he was addressed.

"Oi! Stripes!" That caused the buck's head to jerk in response as he meet the similar blue eyes of his older brother. The cruel giggling did not improve his patience. "I asked what your take of the story was. What did you learn from the Long Patrol? Or are you too busy making bracelets to pay attention?"

Daniel smirked at his younger brother. He felt much satisfaction in watching the overly large ears flush red and his small face furrow in fury. Serves him right for being better at nearly everything he tried to do.

Jack, amazingly, took his mother's advice and stood. The braid in one clinched paw, the other balled in an almost painful fist, he shook with anger and fought to keep his voice steady as he walked to the door.

"Never underestimate your opponent." The Leveret turned to look his brother in the eye before he left. "No matter how small they seem." Daniel's face fell to a scowl and a mental note was made to teach his brother a lesson later. But Jack had already left.

And in the room above them, General Baylor McLeaps raised his eyebrows and fought a smirk. As he turned back towards the table, he felt some nicknames were well deserved. After all, who wouldn't call his youngest kit a savage after that?

…..

Savage they did call him.

Jack walked from the room in the direction of the kitchens at the base of the mountain fortress. He kept his fists balled, braid still secure, with his posture stiff and ears unwavering as they stood straight up. Brow still furrowed, the Leveret made his way through his home, pausing to acknowledge his superiors and elders. And trying to not release his fury at the younger cadets who whispered about him behind their paws.

He did not miss any of what was said.

The mess hall was near deserted. Only those who had been running patrol or were preparing to do so were present. None spoke, mainly because as any mammal should know (but alas, many never shall) a Salamandastron hare's appetite out weighed the need for conversation. Jack was able to pass unnoticed as he entered the warm kitchens.

Blue eyes sought and found his mother, a doe he would look very much like had he not the stripes. She stood in the center, as much general in the kitchen as her husband was of the mountain. But perhaps more feared. Orders were given and carried out with no question and the workers, a more diverse group than then those they kept fed, gave almost reverent loyalty to her.

"Archer, see that you take greater care with those walnuts. The last few have been more shell than nut. And Thomas, that crust must be rolled thinner! It is a pie not a loaf, my goat." The doe's eyes, these a bright amber, flashed around the kitchen before they settled on the only other buck present. "Walt, if I ask you to peel these potatoes again, I shall send my youngest after you! And then spread the word how a savage Leveret managed to humiliate an eighteen year old cadet!"

She turned her eyes to the new arrival with a kind and loving smile ready. But her timing of her joke made it poorly received by the kit in question.

Jack's frown deepened and he cast his gaze down. The whispers that had followed him about his stripes and his small size, as well as the increasingly aggressive attacks, had caused his temper to become violent on many occasions. And considering help showed up a punch or six too late, the un-welcomed nickname Savage had stuck. He felt mortified at the hot tears that formed in his eyes and spilled.

Merida McLeaps rushed to her kit and kneeled in front him, the serving spoon she had held was allowed to clatter to the ground. Both paws cupped Jack's face, with her thumbs gently brushing the tears away.

She was not a soft female by any means. Her love for her children was fierce, but demanding. They would soon be who kept the world moving forward. She felt they must learn how to be as independent and resourceful as they could be in preparation. Non was the exception. Until her Jack walked through the fortress for the first time.

She too heard the whispers about his appearance. Whispers her husband had chalked up to kits being kits. Their youngest would be better for it, he had said. He would grow to be the hardest to break, the most devoted in his training, the most intelligent in his grouping. Maybe even in the whole mountain. But for once Merida felt doubt.

Not in his abilities. But in what his young soul could handle.

"So this is the wee Savage, eh?" The brown furred hare sneered down at Jack, whose eyes shifted from his mother's concerned face to the one that stood mocking him. "I am indeed afraid of a babe who runs to his mummy in tears. What a savage you are, aren't ya lad?"

Walt laughed at his own comment, ignoring the scoffs around him. Jack felt appreciation for the kitchen workers. They had all frowned at the hare, glaring at his cheap shot. Merida closed her eyes and reeled in her temper before an idea came to her. She gathered her spoon from the floor before standing to turn towards the laughing buck.

"Best keep a civil tongue in ya head and get to peelin' those potatoes. We've enough on our plate without you pickin' on me kit." The doe wrapped one arm around Jack and gestured towards the pile with her spoon. Anger made her accent thicken but she knew what was coming. The arrogant buck wouldn't resist taunting him.

And, as she predicted, he did not let up. He boomed out another laugh and slapped his knee. Pretending to wipe tears from laughter away from his eyes, Walt turned his back on the pair.

"Little striped nuisance, he is. Wee little baby, crying everywhere, I bet the stories aren't even true," he called over his shoulder, his tail twitching as he continued to laugh. And that, in a manner of speaking, was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Walt wasn't sure what hit him at first. One moment he had dared laugh at his general's son, the next he let out a yelp loud enough to cause the kitchen activity to pause. He hadn't heard the growl that Jack had let out and certainly didn't see the harm of turning his back on him. Which explained how he didn't see the kit lunge just as the older buck turned.

Jack had aimed for his arm, but miscalculated and settled for sinking his teeth into Walt's tail. This did not deter him. He clamped down and held on as Walt thrashed and jumped about, howling in pain from the assault on his backside.

"You little monster! Release me! OWOWOWOWOW! Let go!"

Laughter filled the kitchen as the staff watched the Leveret swing from the obnoxious hare's tail. Jack was thrashed about with no intent on letting go as he growled at his newest bully. A sudden, surprisingly gentle wack from mother's serving spoon onto his forehead startled him into releasing Walt and fall to the ground. The older buck, now free, leapt as far away as he could before turning to try to examine his injured appendage.

"Ack! My poor, beautiful tail!" He cried out in pain filled anger. "How will I ever face Deodra now, after that little Savage has gone and mangled it!"

Merida had bent to straighten up her son, who was still glowering and growling in Walt's direction. She fixed his tunic and forced him to face her as she pried his muzzle open to examine his front teeth. Satisfied that he was unharmed, the two shared an eye roll before his mother stood up fully to give Walt a disdainful glare.

"I did warn you not to provoke him. I do hope your tail smarts, that way at least one part you can be!" She jabbed the spoon at the potatoes again and took a threatening step forward. "If I were you, I'd put me daughter out of that empty head of yours and get peelin'. And be grateful I don't tell my husband about this. I have half a mind to escort you out of Salamandastron myself."

Walt's ears fell back as he gave Merida a fearful look before glancing down at Jack. The kit glared back and couldn't resist sticking his tongue out at him. With a nod, he turned to the potatoes and got to work.

Jack felt slightly smug when he did and allowed himself a bit of a smile, ears raising higher. Which vanished when he looked up at his mother. Her face was impassive, as sure sign she was not pleased. His ears went red and once again laid flat on his back when she meet his eyes. Her head shook as she left his side to grab a basket that been placed not far from the potato pile. With her back turned to him, he didn't see her shoot Walt a smug sneer of her own.

Handing it to him, she walked her son to the door. Arm draped around his shoulder, she stooped again to grab the braid he had dropped and deposited it in the basket he now held.

"I suspect you need a good bit of walnut wood for that bow string. You may go to the thicket to see if you can find one." Now entering the mess hall she snapped her paws to get the attention of one of the runners finishing up her meal. "There were blackberries there last I saw. Fill this basket and find the best staffs you can. Jonah wants new practice bows for you Leverets. Twelve should do it."

Kenta, the hare who came to attend them, stood waiting respectfully.

"Kenta, be sure the guards allow him to leave," Merida leaned closer to the runner and lowered her voice substantially, "and no one tries to act on any impulses."

Kenta nodded in understanding before taking Jack by the paw and leading him to the parade grounds. "And Jack, Ben and Deodra are running today. Should you see, them send them to your father post haste!"

Not turning, Jack held up his basket to acknowledge his mother's request. Watching them leave, Merida sighed sadly.

She had not been a Leveret. She, in fact, had never enjoyed the look of a male in a uniform. But a mutual acquaintance of she and her husband had brought them together. Merida was quite powerless against those blue eyes. Watching her little kit struggle here on the mountain made her wonder if it was all worth it.

Twenty one kits. He was the only solo birth. Her little Jackson.

That is correct, she thought bitterly. His name is Jack Mcleaps. Not Jack Savage. …..

A nod was given to the hares standing guard as Kenta lead the small buck out of the gates. The pair walked in silence as the past the entrance of their mountain, the doe stopping just within it's shadow. She turned and kneeled down to look at the young leveret.

"Do you need me to go with ya, lad?" She asked kindly.

Jack scanned the scraggly land around them, his blue eyes flicking towards the sea before turning towards the dunes. Just South of them would be the thicket, it's lush vegetation spotted with wild blackberries. It would be a good refuge for the time being.

"No, thank you, Kenta," he responded, turning a bland gaze to her. "I shall be fine. Thank you for escorting me."

And with a polite nod, he was on his way.

….

There was a small village that had sprung up several centuries ago. Resting far from the mountain, without ever leaving it's sight, what had started as one permanent little trade stand gradually doubled, then tripled. Though 'town' was a stretch, many saw the benefits of this little outfit, with it's vastly growing harbor and easy route into the mainland.

Mammals from across the sea, destined for Zootopia and it's surrounding communities, found themselves passing through this tiny village. And resting themselves in one of the inns it hosted. The view of the mighty mountain on display, though several miles away, tempted several curious souls. All of which were quickly dissuaded by the otter admiral.

"The mountain is dangerous and off limits," he said to each captain laying anchor. "Your passengers should be wary of that and know that trespassing on it will result in arrests and fines to the fullest extent of the law."

No more was said, though word was passed through the throngs of mammals on their way to their next destination. Many rumors and speculation was passed around, though none would guess it was inhabited. Indeed, no rumor was quiet crazy enough to match the truth: Militarized hares, training and waiting to be called to arms, as fate and fortune brought their next lord to them.

There was one who paid no head to the rumors. Not out of ignorance, stubbornness, or pride. Many youths, especially daydreamers, had their heads so far in the clouds, the rumors were never heard.

With a well worn journal and crumbling piece of charcoal, a small creature wandered away from the fledgling village. Wearing her favorite, her only dress, little snow white paws took note of the comings and goings of her early morning stroll. Nothing was missed, with notes on the new plants her father hoped to purchase being taken. The large cheetah they traveled with ate his fill of pastries and an odd, rubbery sweet called taffy. Sailors and shop keepers, birds in the sky, insects examining the local flowers.

Everything was recorded into her well worn journal. She didn't mind the stain her paws received from her notes, thanks to the charcoal. A small price to pay, that's what she believed!

Sky blue eyes keenly aware of her surroundings paid heed to her curiosity. She wandered well past the limits of the village, towards the dunes surrounding it. Keeping the beach within her sights, the journal only slightly hindering her steps, the young fox traveled and wove her way closer to the imposing mountain. Atop a larger dune, she paused to sketch the path she had taken, marking on her map where both village rested and the mountain stood.

'Sea birds were loud on my walk today,' she wrote, 'I can still smell the bakers. But I mostly smell the tide. It is quite pretty here, if lonely and quiet. I feel happy to be alive here, and wonder what I should find.'

With a sudden whoop of delight only those who are young and free are capable of, she raced off, her strong legs traveling across the sand as though the wind had taught her to move. Rolling and tumbling, their sheer size was a wonder to her.

Her winding run soon brought her to a clearing, a thicket really, not far from where she stood. The sand having given way to thin soil, it was enough to coax a few sturdy species flora.

"How untidy this is," she said out loud to herself. "This won't do!"

Journal set aside, the little vixen set herself to reordering the local plant life. It was a game she enjoyed playing, when she knew her parents would busy all day with their own plants. She preferred this as opposed to listening to them haggle over seeds and the like. Dead wood and brush was pulled from the living, the ground swept and straighten to the best of her ability, and several choice blossoms plucked and scattered like confetti.

"How lovely this going to look, Skye," she said to herself. "Though what garden is complete with a wall?" Eyes were cast over to the many large rocks.

A wall she wanted, a wall she would get.

…..

Jack had left the thicket only moments before the young vixen passed through. Having gathered what he needed for his uncle, the hare now sat upon a tall dune. The direct light making it easier to examine his wares, small paws passed over each branch in careful contemplation.

These shall do, he thought. Selecting one for himself, it was measured with care against the bow string he had braided. Satisfied, they were bundled together just as a faint noise reached his ears. It was obviously quite someways off, but there was no mistaking the paw steps of a Salamandastron runner.

Leaving his supplies behind, Jack scurried over the dune and squinted his eyes across the sand. The dark green of her tunic highlighting her against the drab background, the young hare grinned and let loose a loud whistle.

Strong limbs shifting from four paws to two in effort to navigate the shifting dunes, the doe's ears stood straight. Not a beat was missed as her course changed, ice blue eyes scouting the area, before landing on Jack. With a grin and a burst of speed, the brown and white hare charged forward.

Not realizing soon enough what her intentions were, Jack was tackled in an affectionate hug by his older sister, Deodra. She laughed and scooped him up, tickling his sides as he giggled and squirmed out of her grasp.

"And a fine day to you, little brother," she laughed as he scurried back to the branches and basket. Deodra followed and adjusted the sack slug over her shoulder. "And what's all this? Practice bows?"

Jack nodded and went back to tying the bundle. The doe lifted her eyes to the sky, noting the sun's position before looking back down at her little brother.

"Couple hours before noon, it is." She started. Jack paused briefly, before nodding, keeping his gaze down. "If I'm not mistaken, you should be in history right now."

The striped buck let his ears drop and lowered his head further. Deodra squatted next to him.

"Was Daniel being a prat again?" she asked, taking his chin in her paw. Jack kept his gaze away and gave no response. "Or was it someone else?"

That got his attention. Meeting hers, his eyes grew wide, mouth opening to respond but closing before he could.

"Let's see," she released him and straightened herself, observing his teams, "you have bow wood collected and Mum's harvest basket, both of which could wait until after lessons. Yet here you are."

Jack lowered his gaze again. "Walt was being mean. He said I was a nuisance and baby." Deodra raised her eyebrows and waited for him to continue. "So I bit him on his tail…."

His sister snorted into her palm, causing Jack to give her a most indignant look.

"It's not funny, Deodra! Dad is going to have it out with me once he learns I left class and attacked Walt!"

"Doubtful, Jackie. Very doubtful," she said, kneeling infant of him as she laughed. "Walt is a bigger jerk than Daniel. And Mum and Dad know how he conducts his 'history' class." She sighed and stood up again, taking the bundle of bow wood with her. "I'll deliver these to uncle Jonah. You get what mum sent you for and be back before nightfall. Anything I should know?"

"Dad wishes to see you and Ben," he said as his sister nodded. With a ruffle of the fur on his head, the older McLeaps set off towards their home. "And Walt wishes to marry you. Please don't! The potatoes he's peelin' would make a better mate than him!"

Deodra laughed over her shoulder.

"Fat chance of marrying HIM! I'm married to the mountain, little brother. Ben and I should cross paths over this dune. Oh, and Tammo is on the wall today. Give a whistle to him should you need anything!" She called back. "Cheerio, Jack!"

Jack waved at her departing form before picking up his basket and heading towards the clearing.

…..

Skye was singing a little tune to herself as she grunted and pulled the heavy rocks into place.

"Mistress Mary, quite contrary,

How does your garden grow?

With silver bells and cockle shells

And pretty maids all in a row!"

Whipping her brow and heaving a sigh, the small vixen admired her work before fetching her journal. Paw turning to a fresh page, she drew an outline of her little play garden and smiled at it. Breathing deep in satisfaction, a curious scent hit her nose.

She kept her eyes on her work, trying to ignore whatever was the cause of it. Though a breeze picked up, washing it over her in greater quantities. Keeping her head down, she scooped up a small stone and held it in her paw. Quick as she could, Skye wheeled around and casted it in the direction of the new smell.

The two long ears that had been sticking out suddenly dropped, baring missing the stone, much to her displeasure.

"Oh, raspberries!" She growled in frustration. Her eyes sought another as a small striped hare popped up from his hiding spot behind a dune of sand.

"Blackberries, actually," he said, bright blue eyes round with curiosity. She furrowed her brow and stood to face him, another stone clutched in her paw. "Behind you." A woven basket in his paws, he gestured to the thorny shrubs that had escaped her notice.

"What?" Came her stunned response.

"I'm here for the blackberries," said Jack as he pulled himself over the dune towards her. She raised her stone as he came closer, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Though I wasn't expecting to fight for them."

He passed her slowly, cautiously, eyes never leaving her face. Her paw stayed poised to throw her make shift weapon, even as he kneeled down to collected the berries.

"Who are you? Are you from the village?" He dropped his ears at that and continued to pick. "I thought I was the only soul here. What is your name? How old are you?"

"You should give me a chance to answer before asking more questions," came the dry reply. "Though I might ask the same of you."

"I asked first!" Skye crossed her arms and tapped her foot at him. Jack merely smirked and turned back to the shrubs, minding the tricky thorns.

"So? I shall ask second and since two is higher than one, mine should be answered first!" A pawful of blackberries was deposited into the basket as he gave her a glance.

"What sort of logic is that? Bunny logic? 'Cause it makes no sense!" She felt some satisfaction as his ears bolted upright and his fur became tinged in pink.

"I am a hare, miss! Not a bunny!" With a huff, he gathered his basket and moved further down the blackberry bushes. "Now if you please, I must continue this. Good day to you, madam!"

Skye looked at him in shock. Never had she been dismissed so curtly!

"Why, I never! I was here first, so you can hardly expect me to leave!" Jack looked over at her, huffed again and continued his task. "Nor shall I be ignored!"

And with that, journal and charcoal in paw, she stomped over to him and sat. The hare looked surprised at her close proximity, but brushed it off. He ignored her, the scratch of charcoal on paper, and her occasional scoffs she made to annoy him. The two kits, not even knowing each others names, sat in stubborn silence.

It was a thorn that actually brought the silence to a head. The hidden little thing caught Jack's paw, drawing a squeak of pain from him. Skye looked up in alarm as he brought it to his mouth, his eyes watering in discomfort.

"Let me see?" She asked reaching out to him. He narrowed his eyes briefly before allowing her to take his paw in her own. The thorn was lodged deep, but her able claws managed to work it out, though he did squeak again. Skye gave him a softer, sympathetic look as the bothersome quarry was pulled from him.

"All better!" She exclaimed. Jack smiled as she examined his paw critically, blushing slightly when she looked up at him.

"Jack…" he whispered. His blush grew at her confused look. "I'm Jack. My mum asked for blackberries. I'm eight years old and I'm from the mountain, not the village."

Her own bright blue eyes widened, she darted from her spot towards the dune he had hidden behind. Reaching the top, she pointed and looked over at him.

"That mountain there?" She asked, excitement filling her voice. Jack nodded and waited for her to come back. "I have heard of it! Everyone believes it to be abandoned!"

The hare laughed and shook his head. "Not at all!"

"I'm Skye! My family trades plants and seeds. They're actually in the village now, acquiring some new ones! And I'm eight years old, too!"

And with those words, filled with childish delight, the two knew they were now friends.

The sun overhead was the only witness to the young pair in the clearing. The striped hare told stories of the mountain he was born on, while the small vixen entertained him with her travels. Blackberries were picked until the basket was overflowing, though a few were gobbled up, the juice staining the fur around their muzzles.

The pair walked around the garden Skye had built, Jack helping her move the stones to better spots. The vixen would pause every now and then to make a note in her journal. He caught her gaze over the edge of it as her charcoal moved across the pages. Several times, the two caught each others eyes and giggled, a swift blush sweeping across their faces.

Jack was laughing for the first time in many weeks. It was actually his laughter that brought the attention of a certain hare sent out to fetch him. Deodra followed the almost alien sound and cautiously peeked onto the unsuspecting duo.

She watched anxiously, knowing a fox when she saw one, but not wanting to ruin such a sweet moment for her high strung brother. During her pass through the village, she recognized Skye as a trader's daughter. One that would leave as evening fell.

No sense being a wet blanket, she thought as she quietly turned to leave, may as well let them have their fun.

Together, they continued to rearranged the rocks, picked more blossoms, and turn Skye's little bit of land into a proper garden. It was by pure luck that the two noticed the sun ducking over the horizon, each mindful of their instructions. Jack carried his basket and helped Skye over the dune, taking care she didn't loose her balance and tumble.

Now they stood, face to face, paws clutching their belongings.

"Will you be here tomorrow?" Asked Jack. Skye looked down before shaking her head.

"I am unsure. Mother and Father have been purchasing all day. Knowing them, we shall be gone by sunup." His ears fell at that, his head following suit as she turned to leave.

"Perhaps you could write?" He called. Skye turned her gaze back at them. "In case we never see each other again?"

The vixen smiled and nodded. "I shall." She continued her walk back towards the village, pausing to once more look at him. "Good bye, Jack."

The little hare waved at her as she vanished. "Goodbye, Skye." He whispered sadly.

He turned to the mountain and, as the sun sank lower, made his way home.

….

As she had thought, her parents were in a tizzy preparing to leave. Their stay had been shorter than normal, only just arriving the day before. Due to road delays, their time was quiet crunched. It did not help that Vivian Frost, Skye's mother, had been feeling unwell for several days now.

The small vixen was pulled into a hug by her mother, before being gently pushed towards their room in the inn.

"Go gather your things, love!" She said, before turning her attention to one of the many carts they would travel with. "We leave tonight."

Skye gave her mother a worried look. "Why so soon, Mummy?"

"We are quiet far behind, my love," came the terse reply, "and can not dawdle any longer. Go gather your things. Your father and Ben wish to leave in a few hours. There is still much to do and load. Oh, dearie me." Vivian brushed her brow and clamped a hankie to her muzzle as a wave of nausea hit her. "I do wish this would pass!"

The young vixen gave her mother a worried look before she was waved away. With a sigh, she entered the small room she shared with her family and repacked her meager possessions. Having placed her worn journal on the floor next to her, she felt compelled to pause and take it up again. The pages were flipped and her paw paused with delight before she sought out the drawing of a hare. Paws worked to add a vixen next to him.

'This is Jack,' she wrote, 'and a thorn made him my friend. I don't know if I shall see him again. But I hope so. He was a nice hare.'

She smiled and closed the journal, gathering her things to bring to the cart. There was an odd sadness in her heart knowing she would never see her new friend again. Which was more than strange seeing as they had not even known each other a whole day.

But as the sun faded and the moon rose high, as she was gathered into her father's arms and placed in the back of the furthest cart at her request, her sadness grew. The carts pulled away. The glow of the moon illuminated the silhouette of the mighty mountain. Knowing that her new friend was somewhere within it's walls, Skye gave a sad wave.